The Breakfast Club

If you read this blog, you’ve probably read several stories about my drunken adventures, but I don’t think that paints an accurate picture of what happens here. It just paints pictures of what happens to me from time to time.

You see, I don’t drink that often, but when I do, guard your cup.

What I often fail to point out are all the fun and games that happen during the day. I mean, I point them out, but I don’t experience many of them because they happen in the sun. That thing is hot. Some people like it. Plants love it. I think it’s out to get me.

So if you’re one of those “sunnies” that likes to do things while that obnoxious ball of fire shines on you, then I don’t think there’s a better place to be. On the other hand, if you’re like me and the sun is your enemy, you can simply enjoy the peace somewhere in the shade.

When the sun goes down is when I go up. I did make an exception yesterday and played some kan-jam, but that was under the perfect amount of cloud cover that seemed to last, coincidentally, exactly as long as I wanted to play. I’m pretty sure I’m controlling them with my mind.

After having had a ton of fun the night before, I promised my attendance that evening and even went one further. I had organized a 1 am breakfast plan, secured the willing chef and hosts for this early morning affair, pronounced my intention to go to the store and buy a feast then return with my party hat firmly secured to my scalp.

Honestly, I was excited. There are few things better than eating bacon at 1 am. (I can only think of one and you can only do that in space.) In fact, all my breakfast talk made me hungry, so for the second time that day I stopped by the cafe’ for a delicious cheese steak sandwich. Then I came home and had a bowl of Lucky Charms. Then I had a bowl of Lucky Charms.

I was quickly learning my mouth had written a check my body couldn’t cash. My account hadn’t only been overdrawn, but my body bank took my mouth credit card and cut it up right in front of me. It was pretty embarrassing.

After going through all that aggravation, my account was closed and there was nothing left to do but pass out and drool.

At about 10 pm, a friend lightly knocked on my door to make sure I was ok. I tripped out and assured him I was, thanked him for his concern and really did appreciate the sentiment.

At about 1 am, a different friend stopped by, yelled my name for 5 minutes, banged on my windows then knocked down my fence.

“Mayo! Breakfast!! Come on!! (Bang! Kapow! Shaboom!)”

(In his defense, you really don’t have to do much for my fence to fall down. You can pretty much just lean on it or give it a dirty look. I designed it to be removed easily and make people feel bad when they push on it.)

His persistence impressed me. Each time I thought he had left, he’d bang on a different window. After realizing how many windows I have, I shuffled out of bed to greet him.

Mayo: Ugh.

Friend: I think I broke your fence.

Mayo: Ugh.

Friend: Come on, we’re having breakfast.

Mayo: (Cocks mind pistol) Ugh. Something something. (closes one eye, takes aim)

Friend: You’re not coming?

Mayo: Ugh. (searches mind for the right words) Ugh. (shakes head)

Friend: Ok well I just thought I’d stop by and break your fence. (He didn’t really say that, but that’s what I heard.)

I thanked him for stopping by and really did appreciate the sentiment. After all, I had put the wheels in motion on this thing then jumped out of the driver’s seat. It was nice to see someone had taken the wheel and was driving the bus (through my fence).

I wasn’t really mad at all. As I laid in bed, I could only think of how great it was that this was happening. 1 am breakfasts aren’t exactly a rarity around here and happened long before I arrived. And the thing is I’ve met about 2 people who are still around the clubhouse in the early hours of the morning that aren’t interested in jamming a pound of hash browns into their faces.

So it occurs to me we need a club. More to the point, a “Breakfast Club.”

This club might have existed before and even called “The Breakfast Club.” I don’t know. If it had, it’s time to start it up again.

All you really need to gain membership into this club is an interest in putting eggs, cheese and sausage between two biscuit halves (you will be tested). You have to be awake, willing to help with dishes, perhaps toss a modest amount of cash in for food and you can’t break my things. (Unless you are the host.  Apparently, the host gets to come to my house and break stuff. I learned that last night. )

I can only imagine the good time I missed. I’ll admit to lying there with dances of butter in my head, and I did almost get up to partake in the fun, but I’m super lazy. Anyway, I bet it was awesome.

I’ve got a big day planned today. It’s officially “Stupid guy things” day in the park. I’ve never participated in one (or at least an official one). I don’t know what the exact plan is, but I’ll do my part. I made a cool hat out of fireworks, sharpened a bunch of sticks for stick wars (and other sharp-stick related events), made a tank out of a refrigerator box, 2 skateboards and a rifle, and of course, I put together a nice chicken salad with walnuts and a to-die-for balsamic vinaigrette. I hope they like it.

For those of you searching on Google for the movie “The Breakfast Club” and just read a story about naked people eating eggs, ha ha.

 

 

 

 

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